


your hands (they hold my heart)

by annabeth_writes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: At least up until 8x03 airs, Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Prompt: I’d love to see a post parentage reveal and pre battle with the White Walkers where Sansa is the first out of the two to admit her feelings. A sort of ‘the world is ending so it’s now or never, by the I’m madly in love with you’ kind of deal.





	your hands (they hold my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> You can [ask for a fic](http://snowsinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask) if you want!

She rapped her knuckles against the door as lightly as she could manage, closing her eyes and bracing herself for silence to answer her knock. There was every chance that he was with Daenerys, spending the last few moments before battle in her warm, beautiful embrace. He assured her that it was all for the North, for the sake of their people, but Sansa couldn’t imagine any man refusing the chance to warm the Dragon Queen’s bed.

Especially if there was every chance he may die.

Yet she heard him call for her to enter, hearing him shuffle about on the other side of the thick door. There was a part of her that ached to flee. To change her mind and run far and fast before he could see her. But instead, she took a deep breath and smoothed out her skirts carefully before opening the door, her eyes catching on him as soon as she stepped through. He stood near the window, his armor laid out on the table as he slowly donned each piece. As his eyes lifted, surprise filled their dark depths and his lips parted slightly, as if her name might slip through them. Yet he didn’t say a word. Sansa could hardly blame him for his astonishment.

Every interaction between them had been tense, to say the least, since he returned from the south. She wanted to blame it on the sense of betrayal that churned her stomach when Daenerys stood so close to him. Or on the knowledge that everything was different now that he was her cousin, not her half-brother. In truth, his parentage brought her a measure of relief. A relief that drove her here, to this door, knowing that this may well be last time she saw him. Sansa did not know what to say. How to excuse her presence. So she strode forward instead, keeping her chin tipped upwards and her eyes fixed on him. Jon half-turned towards her, as if he expected either a smack or an embrace. Sansa gave him neither, instead taking the role of squire as she began helping him into his armor.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly, even as she tightened straps and adjusted the pieces.

She swallowed hard, relieved to have a task that she could focus upon.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “I just… I…”

Sansa trailed off, glancing up into his eyes. Jon stared back at her, something indefinable in his gaze. They both grew still, caught in the moment. In each other’s eyes. In the inexplicable tension that rose between them every time they were in a room together. It hadn’t always been this way. The truth of his parentage stirred something up between them. Something unspoken and dangerous.

More dangerous than anything she knew.

“I’m glad you came,” Jon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sansa’s eyes darted over his face, trying to find something there. An answer. A reciprocation. Anything that might tell her how he felt beyond vague platitudes. He didn’t give away anything, his emotions shuttered away from her. So she offered him a simple nod and returned to her task, making sure everything was fastened just right.

“How do you know how to armor a man?” Jon asked.

A ghost of a smile passed over her lips as she crossed to his other side.

“My skills are quite varied, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she said simply.

A beat of silence passed before he answered.

“I have.”

A shiver of  _something_  curled up her spine as Sansa inhaled deeply, wondering if she was simply imagining the fervor in his voice. If her heart craved his requited love so much that she’d hear it whether it existed or not. Stepping away from him, her eyes fell to the final piece. Jon reached out to take hold of his sword belt. Sansa gazed at the Valyrian steel blade, brushing her fingers over the direwolf that topped the pommel.

 _Protect him_ , she prayed silently, to both the sword she touched and the direwolf that it was fashioned after. When Jon’s hand brushed over hers, she lifted her head and caught his gaze once more. He stared back at her, his eyes filled with caution and sorrow. They both knew from the moment that the horn sounded that this could be the end. Sansa had already made her peace with the others that she loved. This was her last stop. Her last chance.

“You must return,” she whispered, almost too afraid to speak them loudly, as if the gods would see it as a challenge.

Jon blinked slowly, a heaviness settling over his face. Sansa knew that he wouldn’t say anything. That he wouldn’t promise her. Not when fate could very well break that promise without caring for what either of them wanted. Instead he lifted his hand, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. His thumb stroked at her cheek as she closed her eyes, relishing in the simplest touch.

“Sansa…” Jon breathed.

Her eyes fluttered open again but she didn’t get a chance to hear what he would say. Another horn sounded and she flinched at the sound, knowing what it meant. A call to arms. It was time. He pressed his lips together, giving her a nod and grabbing Longclaw to fasten it at his waist. Sansa watched with stinging eyes, clasping her hands in front of her as her heart raced.

“I love you.”

Jon stilled once more, his head bowed and his body rigid, thrown by the suddenness of her confession. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to regret it. The consequences didn’t matter. Not now. Not when their world could very well end this night.

“I had to tell you,” she said, taking a step away from him.

Then she turned, knowing that she couldn’t bear seeing any trace of rejection or disgust upon his face. But Sansa didn’t even make it to the door before his hand seized upon her arm, spinning her around with a gasp. Any words that rose in her throat were forgotten as soon as she felt the press of his lips against hers. Sansa lifted her hands to his shoulders without a second thought, returning the kiss in kind. It lasted forever and yet ended far too soon, their eyes colliding once more as they both breathed heavily. Jon’s eyes seemed set ablaze, holding hers with an intensity that snatched her heart right out of her chest. If she had any doubt that it belonged to him before, it was gone now. Sansa couldn’t bring herself to hope, not when she knew that death knocked on Winterfell’s gates even as they stood there, still entangled in one another.

“Do you understand?” Jon asked, his voice rough and desperate.

Sansa stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head.

“I do.”

He looked far from satisfied but it would just have to be enough. Sansa stepped aside, lifting her trembling fingers to brush over her tingling lips, watching as he took a deep breath before allowing himself one final look. He held her gaze for a few seconds before nodding once. Then he was gone, his footsteps fading away as she stood there, fixed in place and trying to hold onto the memory of his kiss.

It may be his last gift to her and she refused to let it fade from her mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


End file.
